Monday, November 30, 2020

Where did you come from?
How do I know?
How do I trace you back,
follow footprints and crumbs,
take the twine, feel it slide
between my finger and my thumb
as I inch my way to the root,
dirt pushed under my nails?
Who blows the wind in your sails? 
And if I knock on their door
with the rain at my back,
hair slicked and mud-flicked
from my nose in your tracks,
would they see my filthy face
and open their arms
as you do? 
What earth nourished you?
What fire burned?
And would I feel answered
if I sought and I learned
how you love me?

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week